


these rumors they have big teeth

by usoverlooked



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hollywood, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2018-11-02 16:08:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10948011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usoverlooked/pseuds/usoverlooked
Summary: Hollywood has already decided Yang and Blake are dating. So they go with it. It's that simple - except for the part where it really isn't.





	1. i whisper things, the city sings 'em back to you

The first time anyone asks Blake Belladonna about Yang Xiao Long, it’s two months after White Fang broke up and Blake’s just trying to catch a flight back home to see her parents. The paparazzi swarm her. Blake waves them off with a hand, barely even hearing the questions they’re asking her. She assumes they want to know about the break-up - be it her and Adam’s or the band’s. So she keeps her sunglasses on and pulls the bill of her baseball cap down with one hand. Then, one of the more tenacious paparazzis ducks in front of her and she has to stop short to avoid hitting him.

“Is it true that you’re dating Yang Xiao Long?” The guy asks. Blake blinks at him, frozen by the question. She recognizes him, vaguely. He’s a short man, thin-frame glasses and a bad haircut. Blake’s always found him to be one of the more irritating guys, always trying to surprise her.This time it actually works.

“What,” she says, flatly. There’s a flash of cameras around her and she shakes herself then walks past him to reach the terminal.

“That’s not a no,” the paparazzi calls after her.

“It wasn’t a yes,” Blake calls back.

It’s a mistake, she thinks as she settles into her seat on the plane. She figures it’ll splash across some gossip websites and then the world will move on. It should be that simple.

But of course, it isn’t.

* * *

Yang wakes up with what she would call the mother of all hangovers, except she vaguely recalls the aftermath of her twenty-first birthday and the morning after that cannot be beat as far as wishing for death. It could also be that Yang considers every hangover the worst one ever until it’s passed. She groans, flaps an arm over to hit the pillow next to hers.

“Aw, I bet Ruby you wouldn’t wake up before noon.”

Yang rolls over onto her back to find Weiss sitting cross-legged on the bed. She has a Starbucks drink in each hand. Yang makes grabbing motions for one of them and Weiss makes a face. There’s a moment and then Ruby walks in, dropping to sit next to Weiss. Yang groans when Weiss hands the drink over to Ruby.

“I hate you,” Yang grumbles. Weiss grins before taking a long drink of her latte. Yang flips her off then tugs a pillow onto her face.

“By the way, you’re apparently dating that Belladonna girl,” Weiss says. Yang peels the pillow off her head and levels the other woman with a look. It’s the best glare she can manage with the drum line currently playing in her head. Weiss seems unimpressed, makes a grandiose motion with one hand. “Don’t look at me, I’m just glad they aren’t saying we’re in love for once.”

“They only say that because you won’t move out of my house,” Yang says. Weiss rolls her eyes and shrugs one shoulder, a fluid motion. It’s one Yang’s familiar with because it means that despite what Weiss is willing to admit, they both know Yang is right. Yang sits up, tugs her hair into a bun atop her head.

“Also why is Weiss pretending not to know her name when I know they’re friends?” Yang asks. Ruby hands over her coffee quietly. Yang leans over to kiss her sister on the cheek. Weiss may be the worst friend Yang’s ever had but Ruby is the best sister Yang’s ever had.

“Because she’s Weiss,” Ruby says. She smiles, takes Weiss’s cup from her and drinks. With anyone else, they’d lose a hand for that, but Weiss lets Ruby do it. Yang resists the urge to comment. She’s a saint truly.

“So why am I apparently dating her anyway?” Yang asks. She watches Ruby hand the cup back to Weiss, who blushes a little before sipping at it. Yang thinks they should all be glad that Ruby is oblivious.

Ruby points to Yang.

“You wore that shirt and now everyone thinks it’s because you’re dating. Well, that and I guess she said something to a paparazzi.”

“You think she’d get enough attention with her gothy little band breaking up and her tawdry break-up,” Weiss says with a sniff. Ruby elbows her but Weiss just shrugs. Yang knows Weiss is just pissed that her calls to Blake are going unanswered. She's heard the grouchy voicemails Weiss left.

Yang leans back onto her pillow with a sigh. The fucking shirt. The whole thing is Weiss’s fault.

Weiss has known Blake longer than any of them. It was signature Weiss to act like that wasn’t true even though it was. Yang had met Blake back when she was part of the band, White Fang. But Weiss had actually hung out with her during one of her teenage rebellions - spent part of a summer touring with White Fang.

That was years ago but a few months ago, the two of them went out to dinner.

It was right after White Fang announced their break-up, right before Adam and Blake announced their personal break-up. Yang remembers that because she tried to give Weiss shit about it, about going after a girl with a boyfriend. Weiss had flipped her off for that. But the paparazzi went nuts about Blake being out and about with Weiss Schnee, half of them convinced it meant that there was going to be some documentary about White Fang.

So the story goes that one of the paparazzi knocked a drink out of Weiss’s hand. It was annoying, but typical because the paparazzi loved to try to piss Weiss off. It never failed to get a reaction and this time was no different. Weiss had chewed the guy out.

Then, in a moment that became Internet famous almost the minute it happened, Blake had shoved her drink into Weiss’s hand.

“There are people that are dying, Weiss,” she’d said, droll. It became a gif and then a meme and Weiss had sulked about it for weeks after. Yang had contemplated sending a gift basket to Blake for the whole experience, but decided that for numerous reasons that would be strange. She had met Blake, in more sense of the word than one, but that was years ago.

Instead, she’d had a shirt made. It had the Schnee logo, but instead of the actual production company below it, it had Blake’s quote under it. Yang loved it, bought one for herself and one for Weiss.

Yang had put it on last night after the night out, gone out onto the balcony of the bar she was in and blown kisses to the paparazzi. She has a rather fuzzy memory of doing this. It rattles around her aching head as she drinks more of Ruby’s coffee.

“Well, I guess I could do worse,” Yang says. She shrugs. “As far as being accused of dating someone, it’s an upgrade from the last girl.”

Weiss doesn’t look up from her phone to flip her off. Yang grins. Then, Weiss blasts what sounds like circus music from her phone. Yang flops back, pulls a pillow back over her head to the sound of Ruby’s laughter.

After a moment, Weiss turns the music back off. Yang pulls her own phone out, goes to Twitter. There’s an article from Buzzfeed exclaiming “OMG BELLADONNA + XIAO-LONG=LOVE?”. Yang stares at it.

 _There are people that are dying, Buzzfeed,_ she adds before retweeting it, and then means to add a heart, but types the bumblebee emoji. Whatever, Yang decides as she tosses her phone back onto the bed.

“Can you guys fuck off so I can see if my real friend Nora will join me for brunch?”

“Nora’s still on tour, you’re stuck with us,” Weiss says. Yang makes a face and Ruby pats her leg.

Yang sits up, stretches. Her headache is still going strong, but the craving for french toast is stronger. “You guys will work then.”

* * *

Blake doesn’t check her phone much while she’s with her parents. It’s too much work and her dad always glares at her for it. It’s just not worth the trouble, she decided long ago. So for the four days that she’s at her parent’s house, she is blissfully disconnected from the buzz of Hollywood.

There was a time once where Blake wanted nothing more than the lights, headlines and attention. They had big plans, all of them in White Fang. They were going to call out injustices, rally people against wrongs. Instead, they had put out album after album, gone on tour, and everyone else in the band had looked the other way when Adam lashed out. Those artistic types, everyone murmured around Blake. Never to her, of course. The only people who ever asked outright about what it was like to date Adam Taurus, the brash lead guitar and singer of the band, were paparazzi. And Blake barely counted them.

Blake flies back home on a Monday. The upside of being relatively filthy rich is that she can take a long weekend to see her parents. The downside is that returning means having to field twenty different calls about various aspects of her life that are - quite frankly - nobody’s fucking business. She knows she should hire a publicist again. The last one was for the band, a sour faced little man who always glared at Blake when she spoke in Spanish. She needs one for herself now, she supposes.

Blake’s thinking about that as she pushes through the airport. No paparazzi greet her for once and she thanks her lucky stars for that. Then, she reaches the taxi stand and retracts all those gratitudes.

“Schnee,” Blake says, levelling the word at the woman before her. Weiss Schnee motions to the car behind her. It’s a nice car, black and tinted windows. Blake still contemplates legging it for the street because Weiss has a look on her face that is concerning. It could also be that she’s been screening Weiss’s calls for about a month, ever since that stupid night at the bar went viral.

Still, she gets in the car. Weiss follows, then nods to the driver to go. Blake nods a hello to the driver, who ignores her. Typical Schnee employees.

“What do you want?” Blake asks.

“People think you’re dating Yang,” Weiss says. It’s careful, the way she doesn’t say anything else. Blake knows this, waits. She has no idea what Weiss knows or thinks. Weiss relents first, surprisingly. “You didn’t dispel those rumors.”

“I don’t even know why they would think we’re dating. Besides, you know how denying rumors usually goes over,” Blake says. Weiss nods, clearly aware from personal experience that Blake has a point. Blake shrugs. “What does it matter to you anyway?”

“As you might know, I’m working on becoming a publicist,” Weiss says this and some part of Blake feels hopeful. Then she remembers that Weiss spent an entire summer with the band and did nothing and a bitter taste rises in her mouth.

“Congratulations,” Blake says. It comes out a little sharp, close to mean for no real reason. Weiss is unbothered, just nods.

“So Yang’s my client and she has a bit of a reputation of a-” Weiss trails off. Blake grins. They both know what Yang Xiao Long’s reputation is, and that it has been pretty well earned. Weiss finally shrugs. “Well, you can fill in your preferred term for her reputation. The point is, she’s trying to be taken more seriously as a model and we think that her settling down would help that.”

“Weiss, I am impressed,” Blake says. Weiss actually preens a bit. Blake grin widens. “This is truly the weirdest way I’ve been asked out. And I sometimes check my Twitter replies from fans.”

Weiss deflates slightly with that, then quickly squares her shoulders. Blake doesn’t miss the first reaction though.

“You don’t have to actually date her. You just have to pretend. It works out for both of you. People will stop asking you about your ex and the band, she gets the reputation of someone who isn't just having fun," Weiss says. Blake leans back in her seat. It would be nice.

“People will lose interest soon anyway, I’m sure Adam or Cin will start dating some too young thing,” Blake says. It’s true and she knows that Weiss knows it. Weiss nods. There’s something about dealing with Weiss that is fun. Like Weiss is always glad to deal with someone who will call her out on shit. Nobody’s ever asked Blake, but from what she knows of Yang Xiao Long, she’d guess that’s why Weiss and her are close.

“Well you could finally move out of that hotel. Yang has a whole house,” Weiss says.

“I could get an apartment,” Blake counters. Weiss laughs, one soft chuckle.

“Fine. You’re clearly not completely opposed to the idea though,” Weiss says. Blake tilts her head, acknowledges it. It’s not the worst idea she’s heard. She’s just interested in how committed Yang or Weiss are to it. Weiss leans in. “You wrote the music, right?”

“For the band?” Blake asks. She’s a little unsettled by the change in topic. When Weiss nods, Blake crosses her legs. “Most of it.”

“And you wanted to sing it, right?”

“Are you saying you’ll get me a record deal?” Blake knows she could get a record deal on her own. Or well, with a publicist. But she has a feeling that whatever Weiss is offering her is more than that. Sure enough, Weiss grins.

“That and I can get STRQ to feature on it,” Weiss says.

Blake’s jaw actually drops a little before she remembers to stop it. Weiss grins like the cat who got the canary, and honestly she should. Blake can’t say no to that. STRQ was _the_ band in the eighties. Their break ups, hook ups, and music were legendary. She had spent a good portion of being a teenager trying to emulate their lead singer, Raven, in her music. Blake knew it and anyone who had listened to much of White Fang’s early music had to know it too. Weiss leans back in her seat.

“We can discuss terms later, you should get settled in. I’ll make dinner plans at La Ochre for you and your wonderful girlfriend at eight,” Weiss says. She pulls out her phone, conversation clearly over.

Blake can’t help but feel both impressed and a little terrified. The car takes one last turn and then she’s at the hotel she’s been staying at. Weiss leans over Blake to open the door for her.

“It’s true what they say about you,” Blake says. Weiss’s expression freezes into something painfully neutral, like she’s having to stomach the words. Blake swallows. “You really are amazing.”

“That’s not what they say,” Weiss says. She smiles though, so Blake’s alright with it.

* * *

 Yang leans over the back of the couch. On the couch, her darling sister is currently beating the living hell out of Weiss in Super Smash Bros. If anybody had told Yang five years ago that she would be able to convince Weiss to play video games, she would’ve laughed them out the door. But times change, and Weiss is now something of a master at Mario Kart.

“How do I look?” Yang asks the two.

“Great!”

“Fine.”

Both responses come without even the slightest amount of attention turned from the television. Yang sighs, flicks the back of Ruby’s head. Ruby squawks at that but still refuses to turn. Yang opts for sending a mirror picture to Nora, who has abandoned her for her career and other stupid shit like that. Nora responds within a minute with seventeen exclamation marks and then a bunch of heart eye emojis. Then separately, she sends a single poo emoji. That’s why Yang keeps her around.

“Yang, try not to actually sleep with her,” Weiss says from the couch. She has apparently lost the game, if Ruby pumping her fists into the air is anything to go by. Yang gives Weiss a look and Weiss holds both hands up in the international signal of ‘no offense’. “With you, it’s worth saying.”

“I’m not interested in screwing up my fake relationship by making it real, don’t worry,” Yang says, though Weiss isn’t far off with the warning. She shoulders her purse. She watches the back of Weiss’s head. There’s no way she knows anything but something about the fact that Weiss won’t look quite at her has Yang thinking.

“Oh my god,” Yang groans. Weiss’s shoulders reach her ears and Yang knows it. It should probably be concerning that she knows Weiss this well, but she’s known Weiss since they were kids and against all laws of logic, Weiss might actually be her best friend. It means that Yang knows her too well. “You hooked up with her.”

“You did?” Ruby asks. Weiss starts a new game of Super Smash in lieu of answering.

“We kissed once,” Weiss says finally, when Ruby pauses the game to get her attention. Weiss shrugs. “It was when her and Adam had broken up for a few days, the way they always used to, and she kissed me.”

“She kissed you?” Both sisters ask. Yang was proud to hear that hers was the less shrieky voice of the two.

“Oh, is it so absurd that someone would want to kiss me?”

“Yes, you’re a hideous monster, that’s why I never look directly at you,” Yang deadpans. Weiss glares.

“It’s not - I just didn’t _know_ , I thought you didn’t - I mean, you didn’t even know you liked girls then, did you - I just- people would want to kiss you, they do,” Ruby stammers a few more sounds at the end of the sentence. Yang walks over to the couch and kisses the top of Ruby’s head.

“Well, as fun as discussing Weiss’s sexual deviance is, I have a date,” Yang says. The sound of Weiss and Ruby arguing follows her out. It’s comfortingly familiar, especially considering she has no idea what awaits her at the restaurant.

* * *

Blake shows up ten minutes early. It’s an old habit, from years of being in a band with people who show up fifteen minutes late. Someone always has to show up to make nice with everyone so they still get to perform. She’s only there about five minutes before Yang joins her at the table.

It’s been years since she’s actually seen Yang. Not since Yang starred in a music video for one of White Fang’s early hits - _Jack London_ , one of their first singles, because Adam thought he was clever. Blake wonders now if Yang even remembers the night after that.

They sit in silence for a moment, interrupted only by the waitress asking for drink orders. Blake orders wine and Yang gets something with tequila. Blake waits, something she’s well-versed in, and watches. Yang’s a model, it should really not be surprising that she is as pretty as she is. Yet, Blake is still surprised by it. Yang had been pretty at eighteen, back when they first met, but now she’s absolutely stunning. Blake tries not to look too interested in that fact. Yang swirls her wine in her glass, eyes on some point behind Blake.

"What did she promise you?" Yang asks. She grins, all teeth. Blake wishes feverently that she did not know what Yang's real smile looked like. It would make this thing easier to stomach.

"Record deal," Blake answers shortly. Yang cocks an eyebrow. Blake gives in. "Featuring your parents' band."

"There it is," Yang says. She motions with the tequila. Blake watches as it nearly spills over the edge of the glass. There’s something practiced in how near it comes to the edge without spilling.Finally, Yang looks at her. "This will work better if we're just honest with each other."

"So we're actually doing this?" Blake asks. Yang tips back the rest of the wine glass.

"Sure, unless you’re chickening out,” Yang says. She levels Blake with a look. Blake squares her shoulders.

“Don’t hold your breath,” Blake says. It pleases Yang, earns something of an actual smile.

“We should try to be friends,” Yang says, after a long moment. Blake nods at that. “Tell me a secret then.”

“A secret,” Blake asks. Yang leans in, something conspiratorial in it. Blake gets it suddenly, the magnetism of Yang. She had forgotten how entrancing her attention was. Now though, they’ve been around each other for a mere five minutes and already she feels like Yang thinks she’s special. Blake knows in the back of her head she isn’t though, not truly. There’s a laundry list of girls for Yang and Blake’s just another bullet on that list.

“Friends share secrets, don’t they?” Yang asks, low. It draws Blake back from her thoughts. The candle on their table plays games with the shadows on Yang’s face. Blake leans in to meet her.

“I’m living in a hotel.”

Yang laughs, leans back. “That’s no secret.”

“Fine,” Blake says. She leans back, considers the request. Their waiter brings their drinks. Blake takes a few sips of wine, watches as Yang sips at her drink. Yang’s eyes never leave Blake. It’s a daunting amount of attention. Blake cocks her head. “You go first.”

“Chicken,” Yang challenges. Blake shrugs.

“Sounds like someone who's afraid to go first,” Blake says. Yang’s eyes narrow.

“Weiss was my first kiss,” she says. Blake laughs. Yang smiles back, take a drink.

“Weiss was the first girl I kissed,” Blake says. Yang covers her mouth with her hand, nearly choking on her drink. She shakes her head and Blake revels in it, getting that reaction. It breaks the tension a bit, and Blake realizes how necessary that was as she leans back in her seat.

“And somehow she still said she was straight for _years_ ,” Yang laughs. She makes a motion to Blake’s glass. “Do you mind if I try that?”

Blake didn’t. Blake loves sharing food actually, partially because she loves spicy food and half the people she knows can’t handle it. Still, she’s touched that Yang would bother to ask.

“Is it true you dated that girl from that sci-fi show?” Blake asks. It’s a low-ball question, but if Yang’s going to skirt around the edges of everything, she’s going to do the same.

“Who, Coco?” When Blake nods, Yang shrugs. “I mean, we hooked up for a while. Why?”

“I’m trying to figure out how much of you is myth and how much is real,” Blake admits. Yang smiles, takes a drink of Blake’s wine. Her lipstick stays behind on the glass, a rosy red that overlaps with the darker purple of Blake’s own lipstick.

“I’m all myth,” Yang says.

“Sounds tiring,” Blake admits. Yang smiles, finally looks down at her lap. It’s the first time Blake’s noticed her looking anywhere but at Blake.

“Maybe for other people. I’m too good at it,” Yang says. She hands Blake’s glass over to Blake again. Their hands brush. “Or don’t you remember?”

Blake considers Yang, not quite ready to answer the question. Yang takes a drink, turns her eyes to the window. She waves just as a flash goes off and Blake remembers the whole reason they’re there. She levels the window with a look because she’s never been one to smile at the paparazzi before and there’s no reason to start now.

“You want to make this interesting?” Yang asks. She turns from the window and looks at Blake. “If you back out first, I get to tell everyone that you hooked up with me back when you were dating your bandmate. If I back out first, you get to tell everyone that this is fake.”

“Doesn’t seem like it’ll help your reputation either way,”Blake says. Yang smiles. She reaches her free hand across the table. To the paparazzi, it must look like she’s reaching to hold Blake’s hand. To Blake, it looks more like a handshake.

“Trust me, I can spin it,” Yang says. Blake takes her hand. Yang leans across the table, kisses her cheek. She hovers there, all blonde hair and honey perfume. “Besides, I’m not going to be the one to back out.”

* * *

On their way out of the restaurant after dinner, a few of the paparazzi follow them outside. Yang tosses an arm around Blake’s shoulders, easy as anything and Blake tucks herself under her arm. The paparazzi ask if it’s serious, how long it’s been going on, more and more questions.

“Do you really think this is going to last, Blake?” One of them asks. It’s a small thing, but Yang’s hand tightens on Blake’s shoulder. She may not actually be all myth then, despite what she said.

“Of course it will,” Blake says. She has the passing thought that there must be other girls in Yang’s life who said the same thing.

It feels mean to think that though, so to make up for it, she leans up and take Yang’s face in her hands. She kisses her there, for the paparazzi, yes, but also just for the two of them. A flash goes off as she pulls back and for a moment, Blake forgets. She’s suddenly eighteen again, with a pretty girl flirting with her on the set of a music video. Then, Yang winks and starts walking again, the moment broken.

The driver who picks them up clearly works for the Schnees because he doesn’t say anything to greet either of them. The din of paparazzi questions fade as they pull away. Over dinner, they had already laid out plans for Blake to move into Yang’s house, which bedroom to take and when she would go pick up her belongings from the hotel.

“I do remember,” Blake says, as the car takes a turn. Next to her, Yang looks over, surprised. Blake looks at her purse, something about it feeling safer than anywhere else. “I remember all of it.”

Blake expects a joke in return or maybe some innuendo. Hell, part of her expects Yang to not be sure what she’s talking about - she had raised the question hours ago. Instead, when Blake finally looks up from her purse, Yang’s just staring at her. She looks young, younger than twenty-five, and also entirely too open. Blake wants to warn her about that, about letting people see too much of you.

“Don’t look so surprised, you aren’t that bad in bed,” Blake says, trying for a joke. Yang considers it, then rolls her eyes. She shakes her head as she looks out the window.

“I remember too,” she says. “So don’t even pretend like bad can describe any part of that night.”

“Touche,” Blake admits. Yang smiles at the window and Blake smiles at her.

“Touche,” Yang echoes.


	2. we order different drinks at the same bars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....better late than never?

Moving into Yang’s place happens with less fanfare than Blake expected. A few gossip columns run polls on how long the relationship will last – Blake knows because Yang retweets them all with a shruggy emoji added on – but the world just keeps spinning.

The house itself is nice - much nicer than anywhere Blake’s lived before honestly. The front walkway opens into a hallway that opens on either side into the huge kitchen and dining area or a study with a grand piano. Beyond that, there’s a living room with a huge couch and television with a look out onto the back patio and swimming pool. The last bit is upstairs, where four bedrooms all line the halls. Blake takes the farthest back, the window overlooking the swimming pool, while Yang’s long claimed the master suite that sits closest to the top of the stairs. Yang openly gives Blake run of the place. It’s awkward for about a day and then it just gels.

Blake’s lived with people her entire life. She’s never had it work easily, always finds pieces of herself crashing into the other people, scraping and edging out who she is in some way. This time, it’s a little easier. For one thing, Weiss keeps Yang’s schedule. She posts the week’s schedule on the fridge with a note attached that reminds everyone “not to touch it so HELP ME GOD YANG” with varying amounts of exclamation marks. Weiss and Blake keep their distance from each other, like two cats forced to share space. Blake knows, on some level, she’s not being totally fair to Weiss. That’s an issue for another day. Ruby comes over often, but she’s a bright spot. It’s funny to Blake, when Yang mentions off-hand one day that some people can’t see that they’re sisters. When the two of them laugh, they look almost alike.

“You haven’t run yet,” Ruby remarks about two weeks into Blake’s stay. They’re in Yang’s massive kitchen. Ruby’s making some kind of babka-type thing that she found on Buzzfeed. Yang keeps coming in from doing yoga to post videos to her Snapchat to bitch about not being able to eat any since she has a shoot coming up.

“Not planning on it,” Blake says, leveling a look at Ruby.

She knows Ruby doesn’t know. It means Yang kisses her when her sister is over, tosses her legs easily onto Blake’s lap like it’s nothing. It should bother her, maybe, she thinks. Instead, she finds herself looking forward to Ruby coming over.

Ruby raises both hands like Blake’s holding a gun at her. “I read somewhere that you like to run, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Blake flushes.

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry - I didn’t, oh,” Ruby trails off. She smiles then. “I don’t think you’re going to leave, don’t worry. I totally am on board.”

“You are?” Blake asks, the question leaking out.

Ruby nods as she turns back to her baking. “Of course, I see the way you look at her.”

Blake feels something twist in her stomach. It’s a strange twist of feeling caught and exposed, doubled with lying to someone as sweet as Ruby.

Yang comes in a few moments later and Ruby chases her around the room with a spatula. Ruby’s comment slips Blake’s mind as she watches them, Yang ending up doubled over laughing as Ruby threatens to call Weiss about - well, Blake missed part of the argument, or it’s such an old argument Ruby didn’t even have to actually say it because Yang’s promising she’ll stop Snapchatting it in a way that sounds like she’s said it before.

Later though, when Ruby’s left, and Yang flops onto the couch next to Blake, the thought dredges up again. Now, Yang sprawls across much of the couch, still keeping a proper two feet away from Blake as it's just them.

“Hey,” Yang says, twisting her body to look up at Blake without actually sitting up. Blake nods, indicating she should continue. Yang’s hand fiddles with the tassel on a pillow near her. “Do you - is - oh boy.”

“You sound like your sister,” Blake says. It’s a funny thing, how quickly she’s gotten to know them both. Yang grins at that, then it fades and Blake feels her stomach sink.

“Are you okay with not having sex with anyone for all this while?” Yang asks.

Blake freezes.

It’s not  _not_ something she considered. Not so much on her end, but more on Yang’s. Yang, who once proudly told an interviewer that she was so into a girl that they didn’t even leave the car on their first date. Blake can handle it. Blake spent years with Adam, she doesn’t much mind not letting someone else have her like that.

“Are you okay with it?” Blake asks, finally. Yang shuts one eye, some lazy wink.

“I asked you first.”

Blake sighs. “It’s fine. I - I haven’t really been with a lot of people and I have a vibrator so it’s not - what?”

She stops when Yang turns pink.

“You don’t have one?” Blake asks. Yang laughs, but it comes out funny. For a moment, it feels like that car ride home weeks ago. Back when Blake had the idea that maybe she wasn’t the only one feeling _something_. Yang sits up.

“I have one, I just didn’t expect you to-”

“To masturbate?” Blake asks, feeling something heat when Yang’s eyes bug a bit at it. “Get myself off? Want me to use euphemisms?”

“You’re good,” Yang says, faint. Blake thinks suddenly of all the very dirty talk she could say, all the different parts of Yang that might also blush. She swallows. Yang looks up at her and those two proper feet feel like both nothing at all and entirely too far.

“Do you miss having sex?” Blake asks.

“God yes,” Yang says.

There’s a solution here, Blake thinks. A very simple one - or maybe it’s a complicated one, but she can’t find it in herself to care either way. Not now, with Yang’s fingers fisted around the tassel of the pillow, like Blake’s getting to her. Like she wants to do something else with her hands. Blake tries not to stare.

“Well,” Blake manages lamely finally. It can’t be her, the one to cross the line. She can’t do it. For a moment, Blake thinks _maybe_. Then, Yang’s fingers relax around the tassel. She laughs, flops back onto her back, like this was just some fun conversation.

“I guess I’ll have to make do with Low Rider,” Yang says. Blake blinks her attention back to the book on her lap.

“I’m not going to ask about the name,” she says. She hears the scoff, smiles at her book.

“It’s because I ride-”

Yang stops, breaks into laughter, when Blake puts both her hands to cover her ears. It evaporates slowly, the tension between them leaking out into the ether. Blake watches Yang from the corner of her eye, as she sprawls across the couch. Those two feet are gone, Yang’s foot lands next to Blake’s hip. She reaches over and covers the top of the foot with her hand, like it’s not something. Maybe, Blake realizes. It’s not gone. It’s still buzzing, just beneath the surface.

* * *

 

The next morning, Yang goes to New York for a week to do some shoots.

“Just don’t go home with or bring anyone home, okay?” Yang says as she pulls on one of Blake’s beanies before leaving. She grins out at Blake and Blake leans back in her seat at the bar in the kitchen. Her blonde hair practically glows under the black beanie with “Belladonna” emblazoned on the back of it. It was a gift from some producer in the early days and Blake’s loved it for a long time. It feels strange to see someone else in it.

“What if they kind of look like you?” Blake asks. Yang cocks her head.

“Sure, if you can find a blonde Chinese chick with this body, give it your best shot,” Yang decides. They both laugh at that and Blake takes a drink of her coffee. Yang looks at her, just gives an obvious look down Blake’s body. “Y’know what, I’m going to say no on that account too, lightning might strike twice.”

Blake considers pointing out that she hasn’t actually taken Yang home from a bar, but Yang’s phone buzzes in her hand before she can. Yang clicks her tongue, does finger guns, then hurries out the door.

Staying in the house alone feels _weird_ . Blake spends the first day in her own room, rewatching episodes of _Charmed_. But when she wakes up the next morning, she figures she may as well snoop.

Blake stays clear of Yang’s room, something about it feeling too intrusive. Instead, she searches through the living room. There’s a plethora of video games and movies – several of which have note cards of drinking game rules taped to the front. They’ve been marked over and there are stains on several of them. Blake realizes that moving in with Yang means moving in with a whole unit of people. She thinks this as she sorts through the kitchen cabinets to find coffee mugs with various initials on the bottom of them. She pauses on one that has the name “NORA” written in sharpie over three other sets of initials, then returns them all to their original place.

It’s hard to not feel like a visitor in someone else’s life here. Which – Blake supposes –in a way, she is. This is temporary and in some time, she’ll move back out and return to whatever. Somehow this thought isn’t comforting.

Blake looks in on Weiss’s bedroom from the doorway. It is Spartan and clean, all white and light blue colors for everything. The only real spot of color comes from a neon red hoodie draped over the back of her desk chair – Blake’s pretty sure that wasn’t originally Weiss’s. Still, she’s not willing to risk near certain death by going into Weiss’s room, so she just shuts the door softly after her.

The door to the spare bedroom opens with a squeak. It takes Blake a few seconds to realize she miscalculated in thinking she was here alone. There’s a suitcase more or less exploding out of the closet, but even more obviously, there’s a shock of red hair splayed across the pillow.

Blake freezes at the sight. The red hair turns, sits up, and the woman attached to it shrieks. It’s not even a scared sound, more excited, if the fact that she quickly starts to kick her feet under the covers is any indication.

“Holy _shit_ , you’re real,” she shouts. Then, she climbs out of bed, basically vaulting to stand next to Blake. She’s short, only coming up to Blake’s chin, with a shock of tattoos up and down both arms. Blake recognizes her as Nora, the lead drummer for Juniper.

“You’re Nora,” she says, slowly. Nora nods, looking delighted. She reaches up and pulls at Blake’s hair, grinning. Off Blake’s look, she shrugs.

“I heard it was a wig,” Nora says simply. She pushes past Blake. “You make coffee yet? I hate Yang’s coffeemaker and it _knows_ that, so it never works for me.”

Blake watches her go, feeling rather dazed. Nora has on a tank top that rides up to expose a signature tattooed on her hip and a pair of shorts that have “eat me” printed across the ass. Blake suddenly has no idea why Yang would bother pretending to date her when Nora exists and is, apparently, like _this_.

“No, I – how long have you been here?” Blake asks. Nora gives her a grin over her shoulder, which is not an answer. Blake sighs. “I’m guessing Yang doesn’t care if you stay here.”

“I got in last night. You must be a heavy sleeper,” Nora says. Blake follows her into the kitchen. Nora runs a finger over the book Blake left out, then gives a thumb’s up – Blake guesses about it.

“So how long are you here for?” Blake asks. Nora shoves the coffee grounds at her. Blake glares at them – the coffee grounds, then Nora - a moment before accepts that she’s going to be the one to make coffee.

Nora perches on one of the stools at the bar, swinging her feet in the air. “As long as I need to stay. Is that a problem?”

“If Yang’s fine-“

“So here’s the thing,” Nora interrupts, as if Blake weren’t about to answer a question she posed. Blake pauses in pouring coffee grounds into the machine. She looks over at Nora. There’s something knowing in the way Nora looks at her, head cocked. Blake is caught, her heart jumping to her throat. Maybe this is it, already. It’s not like it really matters long-term, but if Nora rats on them, she’ll be homeless, technically.

It strikes Blake that she might not have thought this out entirely.

“What?” She asks, but it comes out sharp and wrong. Nora’s mouth purses, like she knows something more now.

“Why not sleep in her bed?” Nora asks. Her foot taps against the stool.

“It felt weird. To be there without her,” Blake manages. It’s not _untrue_.

“Fine, sure,” Nora says, like she doesn’t buy that at all. She motions for Blake to continue making coffee, so Blake does.

Nora accepts the coffee when Blake hands it to her, then sets it back on the bar. Blake knew she wasn’t off the hook yet and when Nora grins now, she’s even more aware.

“Where’s her tattoo?” Nora asks.

Blake’s mouth goes dry. She remembers, is the thing. She’s kissed the tattoo, run her fingers over it. But that was all years ago and something about it makes her feel guilty. Like she should’ve forgotten, the way she’s sure the details have blurred in Yang’s mind. But it was the first time for her to be with someone other than Adam, to be with someone who made her feel safe and it was – Blake hadn’t managed to shake the memory yet.

“Rose on her hip. Not for her mom,” Blake says. She thinks maybe she waits a beat too long, but Nora’s face softens anyway, like Blake’s scored major points on this. It’s the latter half more than anything, she knows that somehow. That information had been handed over to her at about three in the morning a few days before Yang left, both of them playing truth or dare with Ruby, who had covered her ears for half of it.

“She’s never had anyone move in before,” she says as explanation. And Blake understands then. It’s not just curiosity or trying to catch them in a lie. Nora’s protecting Yang.

“I know, she said that,” Blake says. She sets her own coffee down next to Nora’s. “It’s not even – I needed somewhere to stay. We aren’t planning a wedding or anything.”

Nora smiles like she knows a secret. “Sure.”

Blake tries to think of a real argument to that, but Nora hops off the bar stool before she can. She lands with a thud on her bare feet, and then stretches her arms up. The signature practically sings against her skin, the dark ink striking against her pale skin. Though her arms are covered in tattoos, the one on her hip seems to be the only one in the area

“He was my first,” Nora says when she catches Blake looking. She pats her hand against the mark. She says it like a joke and so Blake smiles, assumes that’s the right reaction. Nora reaches for her coffee cup.

She refills it, then jerks a thumb in the direction of the rest of the house.

“You write music, right?” Nora asks. Blake nods and Nora grins, a bright thing that reveals a small gap between her front teeth. “You wanna play with us a little?”

“Juniper?” Blake asks, as if there were any other us. Nora nods, tromps up the stairs as if Blake’s already answered.

“Ren has the coolest studio, you’re going to love it,” Nora yells down at her. Blake almost asks why Nora’s _here_ , if the rest of her band is still in town. She resists the urge.

Nora comes back down in a pair of overalls and an updo that looks straight out of a 1950s Sears catalog, with red lipstick and cat-eye make-up completing the look. She winks at Blake, then tugs her towards the garage.

Blake’s never played with a band aside from White Fang. As Nora hops into a speedy-looking convertible, patting the passenger seat next to her, Blake tries to figure out if she even wants to.

“Move it or lose it, lady, I was supposed to be at practice an hour ago,” Nora says, as if this were something that Blake should somehow know. Talking with Nora feels a lot like jumping into a conversation halfway through, it seems.

Blake shakes her head. It seems too much suddenly, to play with a new band on top of everything else. Nora shrugs, starts the car.

“Don’t wait up, but let’s get drinks tomorrow,” she declares as she revs the engine. A lone paparazzi snaps a picture, getting a single finger salute from Nora as she peels off. It charms Blake more than it probably should.

Still, she thinks as she walks back into the house. A new friend could be good.

* * *

 

Weiss curls in her seat as the plane takes to the air. On her other side, Ruby taps her fingers against the armrest. Weiss covers her hand with her own to stop the clatter, then pulls back when she realizes what she’s done. If there’s a blush on her cheeks, Ruby is kind enough not to comment.

“Penny texted about getting dinner or drinks,” Ruby says. Weiss sighs. She means not to do it verbally, to just corrall the noise within herself but it escapes. Penny is a sweetheart, technically, but Weiss also finds her irritating. She’s awkward in a way that never has charmed Weiss, although she begrudgingly admits that Penny is incredibly nice to Ruby. Ruby smiles at Weiss’s sigh. “I know you guys aren’t close, but if you spent much more time around her, maybe you’d like her! Remember, you didn’t like _me_ when we first met either.”

That’s not exactly wrong. Weiss found Ruby pretty irritating when she was fourteen and Ruby was thirteen and they’d met. At the time, she decided it was because Ruby was bright and loud and cheerful, but now looking back, Weiss knows the real reason.

“I didn’t like anyone when I was that age, you weren’t special,” Weiss grumbles. It’s a lie and Ruby makes a disbelieving hum like she knows that. Weiss uncurls a little. “Seriously, I was working sixteen hour days for Disney, I didn’t like anything.”

That was how they’d met. Weiss was on her second television show - the first being one of those awful children’s programs that Nora had somehow tracked a DVD down for and now played on Weiss’s birthday every year - and Ruby was hired to be her character’s school’s class president. Both of them cashed in on the whole nepotism thing early, getting cast in roles based on who their respective families were rather than any talent. Especially in Weiss’s case, who hated acting. Ruby actually had a knack for it, a real spark of talent for slipping into someone else’s shoes. Still, even though she hated acting, Weiss had to admit, it meant that now Weiss was financially independent from her father, thanks to Winter’s careful contract writing.

They fly for a little while in silence. Weiss turns her seat, perks of first class, to face Ruby. Ruby leans back, shoves her feet into Weiss’s chair, her toes curling against the blanket Weiss has over her lap. Weiss ends up setting her hand on Ruby’s ankle. It’s nothing, not really, but it feels daring anyway.

“We should play a game,” Ruby says. Weiss nods, waiting for an explanation. “Like, a dare or something.”

“You’re barking up the wrong tree there,” Weiss says. It’s not entirely true. Both Ruby and Weiss are pretty competitive. Ruby tips her head to the side.

“A challenge then,” Ruby says. She nudges Weiss’s thigh with her foot. “C’mon, please.”

It’s a whine and Weiss should hate it. From anyone else, she would. But she’s always been bad about treating Ruby the same as everyone else. She frowns and Ruby grins, triumphant.

“Do you think they’ll really hire me?” Ruby asks after some time. That’s their other reason for going to New York. One of the people behind the newest adaptation of some book series that Ruby loves - Weiss can’t keep all the damn book to movie adaptations straight in her head - is interested in meeting with Ruby.

“They’d be idiots not to,” Weiss says. It’s the truth but it comes out stronger than she intended. Ruby just smiles, soft in the morning light. Weiss’s heart does a somersault in her chest. Ruby sinks in her chair more, her foot ending up wedged against Weiss’s ribcage. She raises an eyebrow. Weiss gives her a look. “Don’t you dare.”

Ruby pokes her foot against her side anyway, tickling. Weiss laughs, the sound escaping her, then manages to get a hand around Ruby’s ankle. She ends up with her other hand on Ruby’s knee somehow and then they both freeze. It hangs in the air between them, this new thing that takes up the space between them so often.

Weiss releases Ruby’s foot, pushes it back towards Ruby. Ruby crosses her feet in her seat, looking down as she does. Weiss attempts to return her breathing to normal but it doesn’t seem to be working. She smoothes her blanket over her lap.

“Blake seems sweet,” Ruby says after a moment.

Weiss shifts in her seat. This is the thing she was worried about. The bright look in Ruby’s eyes. Ruby gets attached to people. It was Yang’s decision not to tell her sister and since Weiss is technically employed by Yang, she can’t exactly go against her wishes. But here, now, Weiss remembers the time there was a dog on the set of the family drama series Ruby had a season long arc on. She had sent Snapchats of the dog almost daily, then when her run on the series had finished, she’d spent a few weeks on the dog’s Instagram page, always closing the app when Weiss leaned over her shoulder. She never said anything about it, but Weiss sort of knew. Ruby warms to people - and dogs - fast and she’s bad at losing that warmth. It’ll be bad either way, but given Ruby’s inability to keep a secret, Yang decreed it necessary.

“She is,” Weiss says finally. It’s the truth, or close enough to it. Blake’s fine. Weiss gets the feeling the woman doesn’t like her much, but that doesn’t really matter.

“Do you think she’ll still be there when we get back?” Ruby asks. She tips her head back against the seat. “Yang smiles at her a lot.”

“Your sister had too much tequila last night, she was smiling at everyone,” Weiss says, dismissive. Ruby rolls her eyes. Yang left ahead of them, on a private plane with Coco and some of her friends. Weiss could’ve gone with, but she stayed behind with Ruby instead.

“Weiss,” Ruby begins. She chews at her lower lip. It’s one of her worst habits, not because it’s particularly bad for Ruby herself. It’s bad for Weiss and her ability to concentrate on a single word Ruby is saying.

“What?” Weiss snaps. It’s a sharp word, all edges, and Ruby flounders against it. She shakes her head, whatever she was about to say lost to Weiss’s tone. Weiss frowns. “Fine, whatever.”

The two spend the rest of the plane ride in quiet. It’s uncomfortable at first, but eventually Ruby slides one foot over to settle by Weiss’s. Her toes hook around Weiss’s ankle and stay there after she falls asleep. Weiss stares at their feet, tries not to feel like something is slipping from her grasp.

* * *

 

The music from the party pounds in the background. Yang huddles in the closet for the bedroom. It’s some music producer’s apartment, a tiny thing with one bedroom and too many people. Yang’s bangs stick to her forehead as she waits for Blake to pick up the phone. When she finally does, Yang grins at the phone.

“You’re sleepy,” she says, the words bumping against each other as they leave her mouth. That’d be the alcohol’s assistance. On the other end of the Facetime call, Blake blinks, then nods. Yang stares.

“Did you need something?” Blake asks, her voice raspy.

The truth is, no, Yang doesn’t need anything. She just wanted - she wanted to pretend, she guesses. Pretend that she had someone worth calling back home. It’s a silly thing to want. She has people who matter, but she has  But she’s spent all day with Coco and Velvet. There’s something about being around couples like that - happy and too in love to realize they’re being accidentally obnoxious - that makes Yang _want_.

“Maybe,” Yang says. Blake raises one eyebrow, which is a neat trick. Yang tries to copy it, but she must fail because Blake laughs. It’s a single staccato of a laugh, like it burst out of her without Blake meaning to do it, and Yang nearly drops her phone in surprise. It’s a nice laugh.

“You’re drunk. What do you normally do when you get drunk and call girls?” Blake asks. That’s flirting. Yang tips her head to the side with the realization. She bumps against the wall of the closet.

“Nothing we haven’t already done,” Yang says. On the other end of the line, Blake goes quiet. Yang sighs. “Are we - is that a thing we don’t talk about?”

“No,” Blake says. Yang’s tipsy enough she’s not sure what part of it Blake is saying no to, but she’s sober enough not to ask. She rolls onto her side on the screen. Her bed looks so familiar because it’s in Yang’s own home and Yang wishes fervently that she were there now. “I don’t remember a phone being involved.”

“That’s true,” Yang admits. It feels like a dismissal and she knows it must show on her that she’s disappointed by it. It was silly to want. They aren’t - this isn’t real. It’s a play, a front.

“So you take off your shirt,” Blake says. Yang blinks to attention at that. Blake’s eyes dance around on the phone screen. “That’s how it started.”

“That’s not how it started,” Yang says. Blake makes a face and Yang shakes her head. “It started with you.”

“How so?”

“You kissed me,” Yang says. It’s the truth. It was the after-party for the music video shoot.

“That wasn’t it either,” Blake says. “It was your hand on my knee.”

And maybe, Yang thinks. Maybe that was it.

“You put your hand on my knee, right over this stupid scar. And then you moved your thumb.”

“And?”

“And I knew I was sunk,” Blake says. It’s an admission of some kind and Yang lets her legs fall until she’s sitting with them spread to touch the wall on the opposite side of the closet. Blake smiles. “Then I kissed you.”

“You kissed me,” Yang says. “Then I got your hand under your shirt.”

“You wanted to see if I had a tattoo, you said.”

“Then I took my shirt off to help with that.”

“ _So_ helpful. And I kissed the tattoo.”

“But then you thought I might have another tattoo.”

“Well, how could I tell with the bikini top on?”

Yang tips her head back. She can taste the night, the tequila of tonight, the sugary drinks from that night. She slides the collar of her shirt away from her neck now.

“Then you left a mark, right about here.”

Blake’s eyes still on the point that Yang motions to. Yang freezes under the attention.

“You’re drunk,” Blake says, as if she’s coming to the realization of it. Yang doesn’t argue - it’s the truth. “This seems like a memory we should go over when we’re sober.”

“And together,” Yang adds, because she’s drunk and her mouth is a traitor. Blake smiles, almost a smirk. It makes Yang squirm.

“Good night, Yang,” Blake says, voice syrupy sweet and teasing. Yang flushes as she hangs up the call without a response.

Yang stays there, in the closet, trying to get her bearings. It’s a bad idea. It was a bad idea to call her. Yang has had enough relationships - which might be a generous term for them - to know how things always end. Even the best ones end with someone hurt. Yang thinks maybe this time, it will be her.

The closet door opens and light spills in. Coco leans one hip against the door frame, illuminated by the lights of the room behind her.

“I thought you’d come out of here shortly after birth,” she jokes, holding a hand out to pick Yang up. Yang takes it, rolls her eyes. Coco studies her. “You okay?”

“Of course,” Yang says. She’s never anything else, just ask anyone. “I’m always okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all know the drill, I'm a big fan of comments, I'm also on tumblr (masonjo) and twitter (legsluthor).


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